


An Inexorable Tide

by misura



Category: Queen of Atlantis - Sarah Rees Brennan
Genre: F/M, Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-09-07 22:24:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8818486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: A home-coming of sorts.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lesserstorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lesserstorm/gifts).



Mede had not expected her father to be pleased, but she had expected him to be kind, as the Prince's father had been kind, in the beginning, when he had looked at her and only seen her resemblance to another princess, long gone but only recently turned to dust. It had been a cold, polite kindness.

"You sent your princesses to us every year," the Prince, _her_ Prince said. "Did you think none of them would ever choose to stay?"

There were a few seconds of Summer yet remaining. Mede knew the poison tides would not come this year, but she did not know what would come in their stead.

Perhaps nothing would come, or perhaps what would come had already arrived.

"I think that you gave us no choice," her father said. "If we hadn't performed the sacrifice, our harvests would have failed, and my people would have starved. What justice is there in something like that?"

"What justice is there in blaming your daughter for something that happened long before she was even born?" the Prince replied. "By her actions, she has saved all of you. If nothing else, you should honor her for that."

Her father's face darkened. "I don't blame my daughter for anything. I blame you, for taking advantage of her innocence, her good heart, and her courage."

Mede had never doubted that her father loved her, of course. Still, she had sometimes wondered if he was not the smallest bit disappointed that she was not more like her sister, who composed poetry as easy as she breathed, and who inspired it simply by walking past.

The Prince bowed. "All these things she has, and more." No one who saw him might ever mistake him for a normal human being, but the stink of decay had been replaced by the smell of brine, and his skin had become like mother of pearl.

"Surely - " her father said. He was faltering a little, as if he had not expected the Prince to agree with him so easily. "Surely you would not wish for her to be unhappy? What life can you offer her, after all? Does she not deserve more? She is a princess, after all, and my daughter."

"I understand that you only want what is best for her," the Prince said. "Any father would feel the same."

Mede looked at her mother, who had not yet said anything. She seemed a little sad and a little happy. Mede thought that she understood why. Her mother had been a princess, too, once.

"There are things we need," Mede said. "Things you can give us."

"Have we not given you enough?" Her father sounded bitter, angry. He looked at the Prince.

Mede wondered how greatly she had changed, that her father would not look at her, instead. She was the one asking, after all. She was the one who had made the lists.

"Think of them," she said, "as wedding gifts."

 

The gardens had not been neglected in her absence, but they had changed. There were new plants - some she did not know, and most she did, and some of the plants she had expected to find were no longer there.

The gardeners seemed to avoid her, although perhaps they were simply busy and did not wish to interrupt their work in order to talk to a princess they had not spoken to in nearly a year.

"It's beautiful. Peaceful," the Prince said, when he found her. "I can see why you love this place."

He had told her once that he had enjoyed flying his falcon - not for the thrill of the hunt, but because doing so permitted him to be alone, for a while. Mede thought the garden was like that to her.

It was a pity the Prince would no more be able to fly his falcon than she would be to work this garden. Still, perhaps they would be able to find some sort of replacement, something of their own that they might create. If Mede had learned anything in the past year, it was that a great many things were not as impossible as they might seem to be at first sight.

"Loved," she said. "Past tense." The garden was a memory, a part of her past. There was no room for it in her future. It might still offer her peace, for a while, but Mede knew that coming back here year after year, to see what had changed, would break her heart. Better to make a clean break.

"I'm sorry," the Prince said and then, as he offered her his arm, "Will you still walk with me and show me all the plants and flowers you told me about? I should like to have seen them, at least this one time."

_Do this with a little grace._

"Of course," Mede said, linking her arm through his. "And I will show you the first tree I fell out of."

The Prince smiled. His teeth were white, and sharp. "But not the last?"

"I don't think I remember that one," Mede said. Nurse might, she thought, but she had been told Nurse had gone to live with her son and his wife, in some small village in the country.

She wondered what Nurse had thought of the sacrifice, and if she had been happy when it had turned out that Mede would be the last princess to be entrusted to the sea. 

_You'll be home before teatime._

"And then after, I'd like for you to meet my mother."

"I would be honored," the Prince said. He looked a little uncertain, a little shy.

"She really is very nice," Mede reassured him.

"Well, she is your mother, after all," the Prince replied.

 

On the morning when the last seconds of Summer ran out, Mede went down to the beach, to watch the tides rush in. The hour was still early, and for the first few moments, she wasn't sure if the glitter was not caused by that, if she was not simply seeing the effect of sunlight, reflected.

Then a cloud covered the sun, just for a moment, and she knew that what she saw was the truth.

When the sun was risen fully, she returned to the palace, to tell her father that fair payment for the goods he had agreed to gift her for her wedding had arrived, and would arrive again the following year, and all the years after, so long as he would keep his promise.


End file.
